


Extraordinary

by JadeNightTheWriter



Series: Lost and Alone [1]
Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Marcia needs hugs, Missing Scene(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeNightTheWriter/pseuds/JadeNightTheWriter
Summary: They call them theExtraOrdinary Wizards, as if they're somethingMagykal, something different, special. Marcia never realized how hard it was, being the one above it all. Not before now.A character study of Marcia Overstrand and the events that take place during the ten-year timeskip inMagyk.
Relationships: Alther Mella & Marcia Overstrand
Series: Lost and Alone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935049
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. Assassination

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](https://thetrashqueeeen.tumblr.com/post/618543899881979904/okay-so-im-rereading-magyk) on tumblr.

“Alther, are you _sure_ you can carry that?” Marcia asks, somehow managing to sound condescending and worried at the same time.

“I’ll be fine,” Alther assures her, shifting the spellbooks to one side so he can reach for his staff.

Marcia raises an eyebrow at him, and scoops up the books. “You take the scroll.”

Alther smiles and shakes his head fondly, used to his apprentice’s mothering tendencies.

“Well then,” he says. “Shall we go see the baby Princess?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:*ﾟ:*:✼ ✿º✿ ✼:*ﾟ:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Queen Cerys asks, smiling at her baby.

Alther is leafing through his spell book, so he doesn’t notice when a man bursts through the doors and runs into the throne room. But Marcia does.

She sees his red and black uniform, and at first thinks it must be a message of sorts, maybe from the Princess’s father. But it’s not. Slowly, deliberately, he raises something in his hand.

Marcia feels a shard of ice slip down her spine. A pistol. _Silver._

The room is deathly silent and time seems to slow as the bullet sails through the air, landing in the Queen’s chest and piercing her heart. With a thud, it buries itself in the wall behind her, as blood sprays in a beautiful, _terrifying_ fountain from the wound.

Scarlet drenches the Queen’s robes, splashes the floor, scents the air with iron as she slumps forward, and the baby tumbles down to the ground.

Before she can register it, she feels herself moving, lurching forward to scoop up the infant. Alther is muttering a **SafeShield** , as Marcia cradles the screaming baby, numb with shock. 

With a jolt, Marcia realizes the Assassin is still there. _And he has the gun_.

Alther lets out a cry behind her, and she whirls around, seeing him collapse to the floor. Panic is rising in her throat, but she pushes it down, finishing the incantation and kneeling next to Alther.

“Marcia… wait,” Alther rasps, coughing. With horror, Marcia realizes that blood is splattered on the ground.

_He’s dying,_ she realizes desperately, distantly as she wracks her brain for something, _anything_ to save him.

It’s no use. Even as the Assassin fires a bullet at the **SafeShield** , even as people all around them scream, Alther looks calmly up at her and unties the Akhu Amulet from his neck.

“Take it,” he says. “It’s time… time for me to go.” 

“No!” Marcia screams, but he closes his eyes. 

He’s gone, and Marcia can feel it, she _knows_ it, but she can’t quite accept the fact that Alther is _dead_. Then the Princess starts to cry, and time kicks back in.

Marcia ties the Amulet around her neck, and drops the **SafeShield**.

The Assassin raises his gun but she turns—the baby Princess in her arms—and _runs_ , faster than she’s ever run in her life. 

She can feel tears streaming down her cheeks, but she doesn’t pause to wipe them away.


	2. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me bringin' some more angst! Sorry but not sorry because I absolutely love writing Marcia.

_Crash!_

The silver doors to the Wizard Tower slam open, silhouetting the form of Marcia Overstrand, Ex-ExtraOrdinary Apprentice. Instantly, the room falls silent.

Marcia gasps, trying to catch her breath. When she can speak, she shouts a command at the doors— **Lock and Bar**. 

“The Queen,” Marcia chokes out. “Alther. Dead.”

A collective gasp rings out through the hall. Marcia checks to make sure the Princess is fine, and finds her playing with the Akhu Amulet.

Oh.

She’s in charge now. Taking a deep breath and pushing down her terror, Marcia addresses the gathered Wizards.

“Alright everyone!” Marcia calls. “I need Wizards stationed at a window on every floor, three at the door, and two for the stairs. All Apprentices who have yet to reach their senior years need to be behind locked doors.”

Murmurs reach her ears, but no one questions her authority. She’s Alther’s Apprentice, and she has the Amulet. 

(And although she doesn’t know this, even at the age of 25 she cuts an intimidating figure.)

“Endor!” Marcia says, catching sight of the young Wizard. “Meet me up in Alther’s—I mean, my rooms, in two hours.”

Endor nods. “Yes, Madam Marcia.”

“Just Marcia will do,” Marcia says, hoping no one can hear the exhaustion and grief in her voice. She takes the stairs up to the top floor, and rests a hand on the large purple door.

“Open,” she whispers. It swings inwards, revealing the room just the way it was when they left.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Gently, Marcia wraps an extra blanket around the princess and sets her on the purple sofa. _Her_ sofa. It’s hers now. Everything is.

She sees a drop splash onto the ground, and squeezes her eyes shut, sitting at Alther’s—her desk. The thought brings more tears to her eyes. _No_. She can’t cry now. 

There are things she needs to fix, safety procedures to oversee. People to organize, and a princess to hide.

_But where?_ Marcia thinks desperately. _Who would be willing to care for a strange child without even knowing where she came from?_

She sits up fast. 

_Sarah._

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:*ﾟ:*:✼ ✿º✿ ✼:*ﾟ:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Tell _no one_ you _found_ her. She was _born_ to you. _Understand_?”

Silas gapes at her, but Marcia mutters the words for a **Transport** and fades away in a glimmer of purple.

Back in the Wizard Tower, after the **Magyk** fades away, she opens the door to what’s now _her_ room and stops dead. It shouldn’t be like this.

The bed is just the way Alther left it, neatly made, but a few wrinkles at the corners because he never could be bothered to fix them. Everything, even the ridiculous frying pan clock is in the exact place he put it, not an inch out of place.

It hurts, seeing the room. It’s like a shrine, frozen in time, **Magykally** made to stay the same.

Choking back another sob, Marcia whirls around, slamming the door shut behind her. She sinks to the floor, taking deep breaths.

_It’s fine,_ she tries to tell herself. _You’ll be okay. Just a year and a day, and Alther will be back._

But it will never be the same. Marcia knows it won’t. Alther will be a ghost, intangible and dead.

_Dead._

Breathe in, breathe out.

_A whole year._ A whole year and a day without her mentor, who is— _was_ practically family.

“Just a year and a day,” Marcia says to herself, hating how weak her voice sounds. “Hold it together that long. One day at a time.”

She stands up, fixing her new purple robes. The shoes she had Terry Tarsal make only a month ago fit too perfectly into the ensemble.

“Just a year and a day,” Marcia repeats firmly, her voice stronger. She smooths down her hair, and just to have something to do, makes herself a cup of coffee, and one for Endor when she arrives.

_Just a year and a day._

If only Alther could be here right now, telling her what to do. But he isn’t, and Marcia is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!
> 
> I would like to draw everyone's attention to the [Septimus Heap Week](https://jadenightthewriter-mysticdragon.tumblr.com/post/627443554334261248/septimus-heap-week) I am hosting on tumblr, although I need more people right now. Please, please, please send in an ask or DM me if you're interested, this is a great way to get more content out there.


	3. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst.

_The blood is soaking into her tunic, dripping off her hands and splashing onto the floor with sounds that echo horribly in the silence. She can see shapes in the darkness, the Queen’s crown, the scroll Alther carried. And the pistol. It’s aimed straight at her, and there’s a loud_ bang _! and then she’s falling..._

_falling..._

_falling…_

Marcia sits up with a jolt, gasping for breath. The cold air in the tower hits her skin, making her shiver, as she pushes back the covers and stumbles out of bed. 

She grabs her cloak—purple, yet another painful reminder—as she leaves, climbing the ladder into the Pyramid Library. There she lights a candle with a spell, one Alther taught her (she tries not to cry at the thought).

Pulling out books full of advanced **Magyk** theories, she huddles into a spot with her cloak, curled up on the dusty floor, with sharp edges poking into her back. And even though it’s uncomfortable, Marcia breathes in the scent of paper and **Magyk** and feels just a little bit okay.

She doesn’t sleep that night, taking notes and decrypting ancient texts.

The sun eventually peeks above the horizon, reaching golden rays through the hatch in the pyramid. She never quite knew why there was a door there, but Alther loved to look through it, as long as he never glanced down.

_Alther._

A tear splashes onto the papers in front of her, followed by two more.

She never noticed those tiny things he did, the slight flick of his wrist when he signed his name, the way his eyes wrinkled in the corners when he smiled, the way he had taught her practically every spell she knew by hand.

_I miss you_ , Marcia thinks, to no one in particular. _Can’t you be here, so I won’t have to do this alone?_

But she knows the rules of Ghosthood, and she will be alone for a year more.

Impulsively, she picks up a sheet of parchment and makes a mark.

One day. _I made it through one day._

Marcia takes a deep breath, and gathers up her notes. Carefully slotting the books back in place, she climbs back down the ladder, and hurries past Alther’s room.

She really should move in there, but she can’t quite make herself do it.

Marcia places the notes on her desk, the same one she used as an Apprentice, and strides over to her wardrobe. She picks out a robe—darker purple, because she doesn’t feel like wearing something bright—and clasps her belt over it, the weight unfamiliar and uncomfortable. It doesn’t take long before she’s out of her rooms, and taking the stairs down to the Great Hall. 

The moment she steps off of the last stair, a hush falls over the room. Several Apprentices gawk at her, and to hide her discomfort (it should be Alther wearing purple, not her) she sends them a glare.

“Alright,” Marcia says, addressing the gathered Ordinary Wizards. “As you know, Alther and the Queen were both assassinated yesterday,” her voice shakes, and she clears her throat before speaking again. “The infant Princess has been sent to live in a family in the ramblings, so her life will not be taken as well, as she is the last heir to the Castle. We will close off the tower, and allow no one but family and Wizards inside. Does anyone have objections?”

No one speaks up.

“Good. Now, last night, I spoke to Endor about organizing patrols to monitor the windows and the doors. She will be giving you your assignments today. If there is anything you need, she will set up an appointment with me. Any questions?”

Several Wizards come up to her, and Marcia tries her best to sound like she knows what she’s doing. 

She doesn’t, but they seem to believe she does.

Alther always said she had a talent for that.

The day passes in a blur, checking in on the palace—and discovering the Supreme Custodian, to her horror—as well as shoring up the Wizard Tower’s defenses.

By the time Marcia goes back up to her rooms, it’s dark outside, the sun already having set. She ignores her bed—even as tired as she is, the nightmares won’t let her sleep peacefully.

Reaching to pick up her notes from before, she glances at the sheet of paper she marked this morning.

_Two days_ , she thinks, making another tally next to the first.

Now she just has to make it through another three hundred sixty four.

Alone in the Pyramid Library, in a pocket of light lit only by a candle, Marcia reads pages and pages of **Magykal** history. She drifts off for a few hours, before jolting awake from another nightmare.

The Castle below her is asleep, unknowing of Marcia’s pain, unknowing of their Queen’s murder. 

But Marcia is wide awake. She doesn’t think sleep will be coming anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So to clarify, Endor is Marcia's deputy, which I think is mentioned in Magyk. 
> 
> Please check out my Septimus Heap week if you haven't, we need more people!!!


	4. Extraordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack! And with another update! Last chapter before the epilogue, I hope you enjoy!

_ June 13 _ .

It’s a cruel twist of fate that sets Marcia’s birthday almost precisely half a year after Alther’s death. It’s a bit easier now to make it through the day, but the mention of his name still sends a stab of sadness through her.

The months have all been blurred together, meetings and Magyk practices, stacks of notes and nightmares. Marcia stays up late, catching only snatches of sleep during the day.

Her normally bright eyes are dim, and she’s short-tempered with most people. Endor has been worried about her, but Marcia doesn’t talk. 

She’s afraid that she’ll lose her if she starts to care too much.

It doesn’t help that Endor remembered her birthday, and gave her a  **magykal** pen that belonged to Alther. It writes in whatever color Marcia tells it too, although sometimes it’s in a bad mood.

Everything Alther enchanted always seemed to have a life of its own, and it didn’t help that they seemed expectant of when he would return.

Once, somehow, the frying pan clock had asked Marcia if Alther was away on a vacation, not understanding at all when Marcia burst into tears.

Currently, she’s sitting at her desk, staring at the pen in front of her blankly. Her thoughts are whirling around, little snippets of memories and realizations.

She doesn’t notice when a teardrop slips down her cheek, falling somewhere on the ground. 

Marcia stays like that for a while, until she happens to glance at the time. It’s almost midnight. She picks up the sheet of paper she had marked oh-so-long ago, and draws another line. The pen writes it in a shiny purple, standing out against the forest of black streaks.

Marcia feels another wave of grief wash through her.

So, so many days without her mentor, and she still has even more to go.

_ Am I ever going to get through this nightmare? _ she wonders desperately.  _ It feels like a time loop, where one day I’ll wake up and have to live through it all over again _ .

It’s what she has nightmares of most often, that the day before Alther is free she’ll fall asleep, and wake up the day before it all started.

She’ll have to watch him die, over and over again, have to redo everything she’s worked for in the past months.

The worst part is the beginning, having him so close and knowing she’ll lose him all over again.

“Halfway through,” Marcia tells herself. She hates the way her voice wavers, the way it echoes softly back to her, so different from the commanding front she puts on for the rest of the Wizard Tower. If she can’t be strong, then how can they?

Marcia has thought about taking on an apprentice, so she can pass the job along to them eventually, but she doesn’t act. She doesn’t think she can take care of someone, teach them what they need to know without crying.

Every memory, every spell and chant Alther taught her is still fresh and sharp, like a shard of glass pressing into her skin.

It’s like her world was a glass dome, all crystal and sunlight and happiness... and then it broke.

The same bullet that had killed Alther had shattered the illusion she was living, and now she has to pick up the pieces, trying to make an oasis in the midst of a barren desert.

By now, she’s sure Sarah has figured out who Jenna is, and that’s one good thing. Jenna is safe, in the warm, messy,  _ happy _ house that the Heaps live in.

It’s the reason she’d never even considered raising the Princess in the Wizard Tower.

The Wizard Tower is a  **magykal** place, and it comforts Marcia. But Jenna isn’t a Wizard, and she doesn’t have Wizard blood. She’d be growing up in a strange, foreign place, where no one would have the time to play with her or give her the love a child needs.

It’s one thing Marcia has made from the ruins of her past life, but it’s so, so fragile. Just the slightest hint something is off, and it’ll all collapse.

Everything in her life seems like that now. She’s standing on the edge of a dark abyss, and if she takes just the smallest step, she’ll fall, and there’s no going back.

Right now, Marcia doesn’t even know if it’ll be the Custodian Army that finishes her, or her own windstorm of thoughts. The only thing that keeps her going through the days is revenge. She’s going to take down these murderers, because they stole everything she had and threw her into this mess.

The illusion of a perfect world would always break at some point, but they made the sky rain with sharp pieces, slicing into her and destroying everything living. No one in the Wizard Tower has escaped unscathed, but Marcia bears the most scars, even if none can be seen.

Sometimes, when she accidentally burns her hand on a candle, or cuts her finger on a sheet of paper, the pain is less than the feeling of the world being turned upside down.

It still hurts, even if it’s a bit easier to speak Alther’s name.

Marcia doubts any of this will ever go away. Even years into the future, if she makes it that far. She’ll remember the day he died, as clear as if watching it through a witch’s scrying pool.

This is going to leave scars, and it won’t be okay.

But if anything, she’s a survivor, so she’ll push through.

Every nightmare, every painful reminder, the long nights awake and the stressful days. Even as it all hurts, and the world breaks, and she changes until her past self would never recognize her, she’ll push through.

One day, Marcia will be written in textbooks, when children learn about the Wizard Tower. She’ll have an apprentice, someday, when she's ready, and they’ll change the world. 

And Marcia, she’ll be the one that made it all happen. She’s going to be extraordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I got really philosophical there. I just like my metaphors ok? XD


End file.
